


and possibly i like the thrill

by raregoose



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (not in a bad way), Body Image, Established Relationship, Extended Metaphors, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-31 23:45:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raregoose/pseuds/raregoose
Summary: Patrik was big and calm and slow, and Nikolaj felt his life start to match that tempo.Nikolaj was all sharp angles and sharp wit, and Patrik had never fit better with another person in his life.They both were (gladly, indulgently, repeatedly) breaking promises they had made to themselves.





	and possibly i like the thrill

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, Pucking Rare! I had this WIP where the main pairing only has 8 fics in the tag and the side pairings don't exist on AO3, so it felt appropriate for the challenge. This originally stemmed from thoughts about the human body, and how we relate to our own and others' bodies. This led naturally to the concept of sex, and I had a lot of fun writing about sex in a different way (I'm not a huge fan of writing explicit scenes, and I don't feel it to be one of my strengths). This whole thing is basically a series of convoluted metaphors, if that's your thing.
> 
> The title is from e. e. cummings' poem "I Like My Body When It Is With Your", which was a big inspiration for me writing this fic.
> 
> Not sure if it matters, but just in case: this fic contains a spoiler for the 2014 movie Gone Girl.
> 
> Also please note, this fic contains a scene that implies a sexual relationship between two consenting minors of the same age (Patrik and Jesse were 18 at the time of the draft but both were 17 during the Helsinki World Juniors).

**N.**

Nikolaj _maybe_ had a thing for bigger guys. Looking back, it was all Timo’s fault, Timo’s broad shoulders and the ease with which he pushed Nikolaj around. Moving away from home to Halifax made Nikolaj grow up in a lot of ways, but perhaps none more intense than the bone-deep pull Nikolaj felt when Timo boxed him in up against the glass for a celebration or stripped sweaty skin-tight under armour off in the locker room, or even the casual way he’d splay a big forearm and a big hand on the table at McDonald’s and his tee would stretch across his shoulders.

Timo would sling a heavy arm over his shoulder on the bus, or raise an eyebrow at him across the locker room, a smirk playing on his lips, and Nikolaj would go back to his billet’s to his room in the basement and jerk off until his dick was chafed, lying to himself that he was thinking about Margot Robbie.

Timo was his Euro-buddy; they stumbled over English together in their first months in Halifax and laughed over the girls at school who were not-so-secretly interested in foreign guys with accents. Nikolaj watched him shyly, always out of the corner of his eye, watching the turn of his lip or the sliver of his back revealed by a lifted t-shirt when he stretched until Timo would catch his gaze bemusedly.

Nikolaj taught himself not to stare.

Patrik fucked his life up.

Patrik was _big_ ; he was maybe gangly in a weird way his rookie season but he filled out and into his body, all six stupid feet and five stupid inches of it, and Nikolaj couldn’t keep his eyes or his hands off of him. He was still good about keeping his eyes to himself in the locker room, but he took in the view without shame in the hotel rooms, as Patrik stretched himself out on his bed, kicking his dress shoes off and popping the buttons of his shirt, revealing slivers of skin that Nikolaj had no intention of looking away from.

They requested two TVs to game but only ever needed one bed; it was funny how things turned out sometimes.

**P.**

Patrik never really had a _type_. He’d always been a laid-back kind of guy, nonchalant and upfront about what he wanted. He liked the soft sway of girls’ hair and hips when they walked, like they were always dancing wherever they went. He liked their blushed cheeks and the perfect pink Os of their lips. Girls were like music; they floated around Patrik and made him dizzy, and he knew he loved them.

Jesse was all different. He surprised Patrik, the way he easily made Patrik lose his head with only his smile. He was unhurried in being, all gentle curves, from his lips and cheeks to his torso and legs. Jesse existed because he existed; he lived in a body and he was comfortable in it. They explored each other leisurely, without rush, finding curves everywhere, even in the arcs of slowed-down time that seemed to spin in circles like a loading screen when they were together, like they’d found a pocket of the world where all that existed were their bodies, both as individual entities and as one.

Jesse spoke filthy Finnish through his dopey smile at Patrik during draft activities when Olli was out of earshot and the others couldn’t understand, leaving Patrik blushing and quickly turning to the English conversations with the Americans.

“What’s he talking to you about all the time?” Pierre-Luc asked him offhand after Jesse detailed the way he’d like to go down on Patrik after the prospects’ trip to Niagara Falls.

“What? Uh, nothing, shut up,” Patrik said. They were getting on the boat; he ducked his head and shoved it through his water poncho before he died of embarrassment. 

(He was rooming with Jesse in Buffalo for the draft; Jesse made good on his promise to Patrik later that night.)

Jesse was nothing like any girl Patrik had ever known. He was broad and purposeful in movement but with none of the inherent grace of old girlfriends. That wasn’t to say Jesse wasn’t graceful, but if girls were music, Jesse was a poem, winding his way around Patrik, taking his time; only when Patrik looked back did he realize how deep Jesse had slipped under his skin. 

And then Nikolaj, Nikolaj who was a whole new world in himself. Nikolaj was all sharp edges and angles everywhere, in his jaw and his hips and the quick way he skated like he was the knife and the defenders were the butter. They shared cutting remarks, constantly barbing each other for this or that, always running on the edge between teasing and something else, something charged and tense like a rubber band waiting to snap.

**N.**

Nikolaj hadn’t ever really appreciated the human body before Patrik.

His first experiences weren’t really things to write home about. Halifax was a time in his life when he was way too horny and had way too little adult supervision, which led to Nikolaj trying to fuck his crush on Timo out of himself without much luck.

He took the girl who laughed too loud at his jokes back to his billett’s house when they were out of town; they got drunk off wine coolers she’d stolen from her mom and kissed for hours but she smelled too sweet, like fruit and flowers (nothing like the gentle vanilla that Nikolaj imagined Margot Robbie smelling like or the cologne Timo wore) so Nikolaj made up an excuse and sent her home. She switched her seat in history class and whispered about him to her friends, and Nikolaj lied about what happened to Timo when he asked.

There was a cute college guy who worked on the boardwalk at Nikolaj’s favorite shop and knew nothing about hockey and Nikolaj flirted with him until the guy finally asked him out. He pulled Nikolaj into the bathroom halfway through the movie and blew him until his knees buckled. It was possibly not the sexiest location for the best sexual experience of his life up to that point, and Rosamund Pike slit Neil Patrick Harris’ throat during a sex scene when they came back into the theatre, but Nikolaj counted it as better than jerking off, so all in all it was a win.

He got acquainted with Tinder and messy hookups with people in bars who pretended not to know who he was once he got to Winnipeg. He got used to watching Timo on his laptop screen through grainy streams, and then he got used to seeing Timo in Rouyn-Norada’s black and red instead of Halifax’s comforting red and green.

 _i haven’t gotten used to seeing you in blue yet_ , Timo texted him out of the blue.

 _you better get used to blue. you’ll be wearing it soon enough_ , he texted back.

His crush faded with time, and it was for the best. San Jose wasn’t exactly close to Winnipeg.

Everything was easy with Patrik in a way it never was before. He liked Patrik’s body. He liked his jaunty smile and crooked teeth, the point of his lips. He liked the freckles on his neck and the long planes of his body, muscles tense underneath. He liked the flush that crept along every edge of his body when Nikolaj was with him, when they were in bed together and Nikolaj touched him _just_ so. He liked his hands and his long fingers, and he especially liked it when those fingers were inside him, stretching him around every knuckle. He liked the intense furrow in his brow as he focused on getting Nikolaj’s legs to shake the way he wanted.

He really liked Patrik’s cock. But he thought that that probably went without saying.

**P.**

Patrik was not a liar. He didn’t have time or energy to devote to pretending to be something or someone he wasn’t. Telling people honestly how he felt tended to work out pretty well for him, anyway.

Girls liked a guy who was forward. Girls also liked hockey players. Girls also liked guys who didn’t jerk them around and lie about what they wanted. 

Girls liked Patrik. And Patrik liked girls, so it worked out pretty well.

Patrik also liked Jesse, who roomed with him in Helsinki for World Juniors and was touchy, who would wrap himself onto Patrik’s side while they partied with the team and _purr_ when Patrik put his arm around him in the back of the room where none of the other guys seemed to notice. Jesse liked it when they got back from a win buzzing and a joke turned into Patrik deciding to finally do something about that mouth of his, pinning him against the bed and kissing him until they couldn't breathe.

“No need to be so coy,” Patrik said. “All you had to do was say something if you wanted this.”

“Where's the fun in that?” Jesse asked, licking a stripe up Patrik's neck.

Jesse liked to play games; he was a tease and a flirt and he drove Patrik half-crazy but they were teenagers and there were no adults around so he'd be damned if he didn't take advantage of every moment.

Patrik grew weary of games at some point. Kekalainen picked Pierre-Luc over Jesse and for a split second it almost seemed like, _maybe_ , maybe it could be something, with Jesse in his Edmonton jersey (Tappara colors) and Patrik only one province over with Winnipeg blue. They had made the world small: they had taken Finland in the palms of their hands and everything followed from there. They came to North America and everything fell at their feet, the GMs, the scouts, worshipping them like they were gods in 18 year old bodies.

Jesse pressed his hands against the Jets logo in a forgotten corner and kissed Patrik, pushing his hat up and off his head, the stiff fabric pulling at his hair that his mother had so gently coiffed that evening.

“Next year,” he said, taking his lips off Patrik’s neck, much to his dismay, “we could, y’know, with you in Winnipeg and me in Edmonton, keep fooling around.” His breath was close to Patrik’s neck and Patrik was pressed against the wall, his hand searching for purchase on the cold stone.

“Yeah,” Patrik said, out of breath. It was a miracle no one had found them yet because he didn’t know where the hell they were in the building and the place was certainly still crawling with people as the draft winded down. Patrik was pretty sure they were supposed to be at some sort of post-draft event but instead he was sweating through his nicely pressed slacks because Jesse had one thigh between his and his lips against Patrik’s ear.

He’d never been in love before and he wasn’t sure if what he felt with Jesse was love, but he knew that he wanted to be near him all the time; he wanted to turn around and see that dopey smile wherever he went. He wanted to play against him in Edmonton and then huddle to his side with their hands clasped as Jesse showed him around, whispering in Finnish that they wouldn’t be able to speak with anyone else.

Jesse kissed Patrik and grabbed his waist, making him feel small the way only Jesse could and he blurted out, “I think I’m in love with you.” He had always prided himself on his honesty.

Jesse pulled away. “Pate?” he said. 

It wasn’t the reaction Patrik had been looking for, but he should’ve known better. NHL players don’t fall in love with other NHL players. He felt his cheeks go hot, and he felt so stupid, for even allowing himself to _think_ it, when he knew all along that Jesse just wanted to have fun.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, looking down at his feet. “Sorry. Just forget I said that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Jesse replied, hands still on Patrik’s waist. “I just meant, hookups, and stuff.”

“I know,” Patrik said. He pulled his hat back down on his head. “I don’t think I can do that.” He pushed away from Jesse and started walking away. 

“Pate!” Jesse called after him. His voice echoed in the empty hallway.

“No, it’s not fair to either of us,” Patrik said over his shoulder. “No more games,” he said. Patrik wiped his hands on his slacks and went to find his family, telling himself that he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Nikolaj fucked his life up.

Nikolaj took him under his wing and Patrik couldn’t help himself but take Nikolaj under his arm where he fit so perfectly. Nikolaj fit into his life just so, just the way Jesse didn’t. They were on the same wavelength, taking the same stride at the very same moment every time. On the ice and off, Nikolaj was always there where Patrik expected, always one step ahead of him but looking back and reaching for him, pulling him along into his world.

They made the world small; they fit a universe in every hotel room and love followed from there. Nikolaj fit Patrik into the palm of his hand, and Nikolaj fit his body so perfectly beneath Patrik’s. Patrik had told himself he wouldn’t mess around with teammates anymore but he couldn’t lie to himself when it came to Nikolaj. 

They fell together easily, as if nothing was ever in their way, and Patrik liked it. He liked all of Nikolaj’s sharp angles, his hot breath on Patrik’s neck, the dark lines of the tattoo on his inner arm. He liked his mouth and his softly accented words, so gentle he could've passed for Canadian most days. 

He liked taking him apart until he was begging for it, body arched against the bed and sweaty palms slipping against Patrik. He liked the slide of their bodies against each other's, how they moved as if connected by a string both on and off the ice, like they had eyes in the back of their heads just for each other.

**N.**

Sometimes the world turned Nikolaj upside down and shook him like a snowglobe until he righted himself. He only ever felt good when his legs did, when he was moving with the world at top speed.

Patrik lived in slow-motion. He wasn’t in any rush to get anywhere, content on just existing in his own bubble, taking clappers at the top of the circle over and over and over again and spending the rest of his days playing PlayStation. Nikolaj spent his time pulling Patrik along with him, but sometimes it was nice to slide into his quiet moments and get to know what the world sounded like when the wind wasn’t whistling by his ears.

“I miss your neck,” he grumbled one night in the hotel as they gamed in comfortable silence, picking up his controller and sticking his toes underneath Patrik’s thigh, wiggling them to warm them up against Patrik’s sweats. Patrik rolled his eyes.

“It’s still there, stupid.” He turned to Nikolaj and tilted his chin up to bare the bit of neck that was left unhidden. Nikolaj grimaced. He missed the bob of his Adam’s apple and the dark freckle underneath the patchy beard.

“Is it? I dunno man, it’s hidden under some sort of dead animal clinging to you-”

“Oh, shut it,” Patrik interrupted, turning on the PlayStation.

They played for bragging rights, dinners, their next paycheck, sexual favors, pretty much whatever they felt like. The world fit under their thumbs and there was nothing they were afraid of, nothing that could possibly worry them. Patrik sent home paychecks in six figures and didn’t blink when it was his turn to buy a second TV for their hotel room.

Patrik turned Nikolaj’s avatar to bloody goop on screen repeatedly with ease, and Nikolaj had to admit that it wasn’t his night. The roadies that Patrik let Nikolaj bring Fifa on were his favorites, because they both knew Patrik had no chance.

“Well?” Nikolaj asked expectantly, waiting to hear what he owed Patrik for tonight’s royal ass-whooping. “What’ll it be?” He curled his fingers into the waistband of Patrik’s sweats and tilted his head. Patrik’s cheeks went red. Nikolaj smirked at him.

To be frank, he really couldn’t afford to lose another paycheck to his boyfriend over Call of Duty. It was getting pretty old.

Patrik wet his bottom lip quickly with his tongue before tossing aside his controller to grab Nikolaj by the waist and pull him on top of himself. He flopped back to lie on the bed, Nikolaj falling forward onto him, caging Patrik’s head with his forearms and straddling his waist.

“How does this sound?” Patrik said, slowly rolling up his hips. He smiled wickedly. Nikolaj pushed Patrik’s shirt up to his armpits in response, pressing his face against Patrik’s chest and peppering it with kisses while Patrik wrestled with the shirt to get it all the way off.

Nikolaj explored Patrik’s torso, kissing him everywhere from his collarbone to the cut of his hipbone, running his hands along the soft skin on the insides of his forearms before taking one wrist in each hand to pin an ever-reddening Patrik beneath him. Nikolaj lathed a tongue over Patrik’s nipple; Patrik jerked his hips up involuntarily.

Nikolaj worked his way along Patrik’s torso, leaving his face and his sweats untouched. Patrik was kissed and bitten and flushed red. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

“Nik… Nikky,” Patrik said. Nikolaj raised his head. Patrik was still pinned onto his back but he angled his head up awkwardly to look at him. “I like… doing this with you.” Patrik curled his fingers in to brush against Nikolaj’s wrists. “It feels, uh, new every time. But right now, you need to kiss me on my mouth before I fucking die.”

Nikolaj laughed and fell forward, releasing Patrik’s hands and kissing him like it was the first time all over again. Patrik smiled into the kiss and cupped Nikolaj’s cheeks.

Time slowed down and Nikolaj felt his heartbeat slow to match the tempo of their bodies moving together. He was glad to have Patrik and his big, calming presence, and his relaxed yet bubbling intensity. Patrik held him down like an anchor and Nikolaj was certain that without him, he’d have run himself right off the edge of the universe already.

**P.**

Patrik moved like a river. It wasn’t a compliment when it came to his skating, his long stride like a baby deer growing into itself, especially when Nikolaj was around to whip by everyone in a blur like an Olympian, but when they all came back to reality, he’d come to notice that people liked to dip their toe in his river and wait a while.

Patrik was great at waiting.

He waited what felt like _years_ for Nikolaj. Patrik had been in love with him since the moment they met. All it took was a few hours, watching him skate like a figure skater, hearing his laugh in the locker room, and seeing him scrub his hand across the stubble on his chin. If Patrik was barely hanging on after that, he fell completely on their first roadie in Minnesota when Nikolaj beat him handily at Fifa and rested his forehead on Patrik’s shoulder as he laughed at his pitiful performance.

It took Nikolaj months and months to catch up to his own feelings, those feelings he was always running from. Patrik moved like a river; his feelings washed over him, and when Nikolaj finally made his way downstream, he was ready. He knew Nikolaj sometimes got distracted by bits of flotsam and jetsam speeding down the river, and he’d move forward because that was the only direction he knew how to go. He knew Nikolaj would eventually float back to him after the river spun him around and dunked him under.

Patrik thought about the oxbows that Jesse taught him to find and he let the river slow him down. He liked it like that, days he filled with slapshots and headshots (of the video game variety) and nights that stretched into eternities with Nikolaj under his fingertips.

They just _worked_ together.

They found each other in the dog pile after they clinched for playoffs, sweatily screaming half-broken English at each other in pure delight. It was everything they’d hoped for, everything they’d whispered about during the longest and hardest practices. It was what the city had been waiting for since the sweep in 2015. It was the single opportunity, the _chance_ that was all they’d been asking for. 

All it came down to now was how they used it.

Their line flattened out; Nikolaj got sick and his production got cold. Patrik got tired. Patrik lost sight of Nikolaj in the river for a while, and he wasn’t sure if it was the heat in Vegas that caused it to dry up, but he was losing his legs.

The season ended on a low note, because in the playoffs there really were only two options when it came to endings, and Patrik didn’t feel much like a river. His body felt weightless against the sand, intangible. Nikolaj found him again eventually, dusty seaweed clung to his legs.

“I’m sorry,” he said. The hot shores of the dried river melted into the Vegas skyline, Nikolaj pulling the blinds closed to darken their emptied hotel room and adjusting his grip on his suitcase. Patrik couldn’t (didn’t want to) stop himself from reaching out for Nikolaj’s arm, brushing his fingers down Nikolaj’s forearm and prying his fingers from his suitcase.

“We have a few minutes before we have to make the bus,” Patrik said.

Nikolaj sighed against him and they fell toward the bed together.

Patrik moved like a river. The world was small to them; it was flotsam and jetsam and Nikolaj wasn’t distracted today. He fit underneath Patrik’s body perfectly; the strong lines and angles of his body like a seashell carried by the surf.

Nikolaj turned Patrik to liquid. He unfurled every spiral of his body until he was downright _languid_ , stretched out against him without a thought to their teammates boarding the bus. Patrik didn’t know what was to come next season but he was in Winnipeg for a minimum of one more year, likely more, and Nikolaj was tied down for 7 more years. That all sounded pretty good to Patrik.

Nikolaj laughed in Patrik’s ear; he grabbed his suitcase in one hand and Patrik in the other and told him that they were _really_ gonna be late now.

7 more years of this didn’t sound half bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ raregoose :)


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